Boredom
by HamburgerWithTea
Summary: USUK, ONESHOT, Arthur meets with certain blue eyes in a crowd while singing. After a night of a good amount of alcohol he ends up in bed with the owner of these eyes. T for language alcohol.


**Boredom**

Oneshot

_By HamburgerWithTea_

* * *

"_Boredom, boredom… Boredom!"_Arthur sang while sweat dripped from his forehead to the point of his chin. Damn these bright lights. At the moment he couldn't care less about how it sounded or what he actually sang, he just felt like expressing the words.

It had been a night of boredom, and so he sang. With some alcohol and the rest of his band near, they had decided to jump on the stage, -because why the fuck not?- and make the place see what rocking out meant. And they seemed to understand, as the crowd was screaming along. No one cared about the noise, about the time, about responsibilities. Nobody cared a shit about anything.

"_Now I'm living in this movie, but it doesn't move me,"_he sang on. Despite the bright lights and the adrenaline rushing through his veins, he suddenly locked eyes with a guy at the bottom of the stage.

It lasted for just a few seconds, but he couldn't help it. It might had been just one or two too much beers or just the whole invincible feeling he got when he got on stage, but he reached out his hand and pulled the lad up to the stage.

The guy seemed to just continue singing along, screaming the words in the microphone together with Arthur, standing closer and closer while then both jumped around. Both out of breath, barely able to sing properly, the song ended. The crowd just started to make even more noise, asking for more, but Arthur was through. He was tired of singing and his throat hurt, instead he'd rather just drink some more beers and leave the place, going to wherever.

Without much other thought, he just left the stage behind and went straight to the bar. The guy from before seemed to follow him; he didn't even care.

"Get me some bloody whiskey," Arthur said to the barman, who was currently wiping off freshly washed glasses.

"Me too," Said the man who'd followed Arthur. Only now Arthur actually paid attention to him and he turned his head to look at the fellow. He was tall, blond, blue eyed though it was difficult to see in the dark with his glasses covering his face. A strand of hair was sticking up and it annoyed Arthur, though one way to the other it had something attractive to it.

"Never mind," Arthur said, while turning back to face the barman, "I'll go with some shots, anything really." And looked back to the other male again, a challenging look in his eyes. If the boy was going to copy him, then he might as well show the lad what holding your liquor meant.

Arthur didn't remember how many shots he'd taken before he could feel his face meet with the floor. To his utter frustration, the guy who he now knew was named Alfred was still standing. He might be leaning to the table, glass in hand and eyes closed in order to grab himself together and not fall over, but still standing.

Arthur had lost, and he hated losing. He tried to stand up, which went too slow for his own liking, but he managed to grab the side of the table at one point and grabbed it fiercely. His eyes almost shot lasers to anyone who dared to laugh at him –for as far as he could focus on them. He had to admit it was rather hard to focus when feeling so dizzy and disorientated.

"Fuck you, come with me, we're going to finish this outside," he said, and grabbed the other man. With difficulty, both made it outside. It wasn't easy to walk on your own when smashed, but it was even more difficult when you were hanging on to someone in the same situation. On their way to the door they had almost fallen over several times.

By now Arthur didn't care much about the mocking and laughing behind him. Fucking losers they were and he knew they would walk home the same later that night. That happened every weekend.

They ended up walking for quite a while. Whenever Arthur tried punching the guy or shove him off, they ended almost falling over, so he stopped trying in the end. He was too fuzzy in his brain to realise where exactly they were going. Well, not like he cared anymore. His evening had been awful, yet awesome so far, so he might as well finish it that way.

In the end they seemed to end up at some random apartment in the centre of the city. It was quiet around the place, only the sound of street cats looking though rubbish broke the silence.

The next morning he vaguely remembered how he was semi-dragged up long stairs, accompanied by the strange lad, both of them hanging to the railing as to not fall over. He sure was smashed, he figured, if the killing headache hadn't remembered him of it yet.

He hated this; waking up with a headache, almost naked and the taste of something rotten in his mouth. The first thing he wanted was a good glass of water. He knew coffee wouldn't help, it'd only make the hangover go over even slower, but water was nice. His throat felt dry, and he tried to step out of the bed as he suddenly realised an arm holding onto him.

He looked aside of him to see the face of the sleeping boy (well, man, but he looked young) next to him; glasses askew, probably broken at some points after dropping straight down on the bed, and no shirt on as well.

Arthur just let his hand slip down his face to make sure he was properly awake, which he seemed to be. With a small grumble he made his way out of the bed, after lifting the heavy arm off his waist, and grabbed together his pieces of clothing. He better be out of here before the other wakes up, who knows what'd happen if he was found in the other's house, no proper memories of last night and standing there, doing nothing. That would sure be awkward.

And so he left, as quickly and silently as possible.

A week passed, in which he tried to forget about the awkward situation. It wasn't as if it was the first time something like this had happened. Yet, for some reason, the boy's bright blue eyes kept coming into his mind. What was wrong with him? Why couldn't he get rid of the thoughts?

Sometimes he'd suddenly think of things that might have or haven't happen. Sometimes it were sweet nothings whispered to him in the midst of the night, sometimes it was some vague feeling of pleasure he must have felt back then. He wasn't sure if it were memories, or he just made them up.

Too soon for Arthur's liking the week had ended. It didn't take long on that Friday evening for Francis to call him up, asking him out for a drink. Of course he'd said yes, he never said no. After all, it was the best time of the week; the time in which he could just let go of all his worries and enjoy his time.

He'd somewhat expected for it to happen, but still wasn't fully prepared for it. As soon as he sat down by the bar to order some beer (he always started off with beer) he heard a familiar voice greet him.

"Hey," the voice said, "So, you did come back." The voice sounded almost relieved at seeing him, but Arthur figured he must have imagined it.

Arthur didn't greet back, instead he grabbed onto the bottle placed before him and gulped half of it down in just a few seconds, letting out a content sigh afterwards. Without asking the boy took place next to him, also ordering a drink. Arthur didn't care about what he ordered, but he could suddenly see the 'memories' showing up again in his head.

_His muscles, in the dim light of the moon. His eyes, shining as stars in the blue, blue sky. _

It couldn't be true, it had to be a dream, right?

"Why did you leave so suddenly?" Alfred suddenly asked, and Arthur snapped back to reality. It seemed the boy, as Arthur looked at him, didn't feel like making eye contact. Instead he focussed on the glass in his hand, watching how the liquid wrinkled as he moved it around.

"I- I what?" Arthur asked, a bit too distracted to focus on what Alfred asked him.

"Why did you leave," Alfred repeated. His voice sounded a bit sad, but nothing really depressing or anything.

"Uhm," Arthur started, not expecting the question, "I- I figured you'd be freaked out if you found me in your house all of a sudden." He replied, still a bit surprised about the question.

Alfred just nodded, and no sound was made by either of the two for the next half hour. They just sat there, side by side, while drinking their drinks. Suddenly, though, Arthur felt a tap on his shoulder, and he looked behind in to meet with Francis' eyes.

"They asked us to play some songs again," He said, pointing at the stage, "You in for it?" Arthur just nodded, and took a last gulp of his beer before he made his way to the stage.

It was the same as last time. The crowd seemed to rock on anything they played, not caring about anything, and they would play anything they felt like, not caring either. The lights made Arthur soon sweat out but he didn't mind; it was part of the job.

His voice felt strong tonight, for some reason he could feel the music run through his veins as he continued to sing almost every song he knew. Some original songs, some random ones, some made up some time with the band. Anything.

To his surprise, while looking through the crowd, he met with the same eyes as last time; wonderfully blue and bright, shimmering in the darkness of the crowd, looking him straight in the eye.

After the small concert he didn't even mind saying goodbye to his friends, as he made his way to Alfred. He didn't know what attracted him to the guy, but for some reason he felt like they should hang out together for the rest of the evening. And so they did.

They ended up in the same apartment, same room, same bed. But this time seemed even more like a dream than last time. There was less alcohol involved, Arthur was sure, but he couldn't believe it was real.

That soft, warm body hovering above him. The eyes shining even in darkness. The gentle touches and sweet words. Everything was like a dream.

Even the morning was like a dream. It started off by Arthur being disorientated, -this was definitely _not_ his own bed!- but soon his memory would catch up with him. Of course he could still taste the disgusting rotten taste of falling asleep without brushing his teeth and the hangover. Even though it was less worse than last time, he remembered this was the real world, but he couldn't help feeling like he was living a dream.

Next to him, arm wrapped around him once again, was Alfred. Sleeping peacefully, glasses dropped nonchalantly on the side table, and a small snoring sound coming from him.

Arthur looked around the room, only to find every single piece of his clothing discarded on the floor. He didn't even mind, he had no regrets for once. It'd felt wonderful, it'd felt _right__._

Remembering Alfred's question yesterday, he decided to lie back down. He didn't mind anymore, he just didn't. It felt like a dream, everything did, and he would risk this for staying in the dream just a bit longer.

It took about half an hour for the other male to wake up, slowly winking his eyes by the sight of messy blond hair on the pillow next to him. It felt great seeing the smaller man sleeping next to him, instead of having to wonder if the night before was or wasn't reality.

"Arthur," he whispered, knowing he must have a morning breath but not caring about it, "Hey, Arthur," he said again as no response came.

The man in front of him moved up his arms to rub his oh-so-green eyes and opened them, whilst turning to face Alfred.

"Alfred…" Arthur whispered in reply. Neither of them really knew what to say, both captivated with the sight of one another. It didn't matter though; they were both free for the rest of the day and neither of them felt like getting out of bed just yet.

In the end this would happen to them every weekend; Arthur would meet with Alfred at the bar, and then leave with him for the night. On Saturday he wouldn't leave until deep in the night, only looking forward to the next Friday.

After a few weeks they started meeting up aside from the weekends, at day time and at Arthur's place too. Neither of them understood how it'd happened, but at one point something alike a romance had formed between them and they were unbreakable.

Francis would make stupid comments about it at first, about it being 'amour' and 'being made for each other'. Arthur tried to ban these things from his head, but every morning he woke up next to Alfred he'd realise they _were_ indeed made for each other, for he'd never loved anyone this much before, nor will he ever do.

Alfred was perfect for him, and he was perfect for Alfred. And despite the weird circumstances in which they met, this was a wonderful love that would last forever. And they both knew it.

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_/Author's Note/_

_So yeah, wrote this out of boredom, obviously. Inspired by "Boredom" by the Buzzcocks (I love their music! Good classic punkrock :D)_

_Long time no see, again a oneshot, working on different projects, and planning to finally start writing the sequal for 'It's Called Love'. My holidays will start soon, so I hope to have more time to write. _

_Sorry for this crappy oneshot, just felt like writing down something. I'll continue chapterfics soon, just that at the moment I'm finishing the last lose ends of the school year :3 (in which I actually succeed at getting very good grades, so I can be proud and happy)_

_See you!_

_I do not own Hetalia or the characters, those belong to their rightful (awesome) creator, Hidekaz Himaruya!_

_Also I do not own the song. [Boredom – Buzzcocks]_

_(24/06/12)_

_Thanks to Nutty for beta-ing!_


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